The company that bears his name (and face) is worth upwards of a billion dollars, but according to The Daily Beast, Burt Shavitz of Burt's Bees isn't exactly living the high life. In fact, he's living in a 400-square-foot converted turkey coop in rural Maine. How'd this come to pass? Well, that's the interesting part.

Back in the '70s, Burt was working as a beekeeper in upstate New York after he soured on his job as a photojournalist in NYC — shooting for the likes of The New York Times, Life, and Time — in the '60s. When his grandfather died, leaving him money, Burt decided to move to the backwoods of Maine to continue his beekeeping, selling his honey out of a van on the side of the road, and eventually at a local store.

Here's where things take a turn: In 1984, Burt met a hitchhiker by the name of Roxanne Quimby. The two soon became business partners and lovers, with Quimby's knack for design helping the Burt's Bees empire grow. They started making beeswax candles, then shoe polish, then — you guessed it — lip balm.

When the company incorporated in 1991, Burt owned one third of the company and Quimby owned the other two thirds. By 1993, the company had moved its headquarters to Durham, NC to deal with increasing demand. Quimby controlled product development, while Burt traveled to manage the retail stores.

And his eye, it wandered.

Burt took up with a college-age girl from one of the stores, and the affair led to one hell of a breakup with Quimby. In the aftermath, he received a house and 50 acres of property for his share of the company. The value: $130,000. Remember, Burt's Bees is now worth over $1 billion.

Bum deal for Burt, but Quimby did give him $4 million when she sold off 80% of Burt's Bees for $173 million. And the company still pays him an undisclosed amount to use his likeness and name. Still, Burt's out millions. Hundreds of millions. Let this be a lesson, guys: Don't cheat.

Oh, and about that turkey coop. Yes, he could afford something nicer, even without the boatload of cash his philandering ways lost him. But it turns out he just likes the solitude. As he told the Beast at the Toronto International Film Festival, where the Shavitz-focused documentary Burt's Buzz is showing, "A good day is when no one shows up and you don't have to go anywhere."